


and i’ll love the littler things (working title)

by starryeyedhomicide



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crowley goes to Ireland in the wartime and learns how to love, I made up a town!, If this is OOC its bc i need to rewatch so pls tell me if it is, M/M, aziraphale! He loves az obviously but like. there’s more to ittt, fhdhdjdk, irish ppl pls don’t sue me i promise im learning it on duolingo, multichapter. Which is new!, shenanigans ensue, strap in boys this’ll be a wild ride, ty :)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26534878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryeyedhomicide/pseuds/starryeyedhomicide
Summary: When Crowley woke up after a century’s slumber, he was only partially surprised to see that humans had gotten worse. They always managed to somehow. He’d woken up, stretched his bones, miracled away the cobwebs and was mildly alarmed to see that, upon reading the paper, a war was about to start. Again. This was going to be a long few years.Or, Crowley befriends a child, causes mischief, and is generally a pain to authority. At some point. (this is a WIP)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley and various OCs
Comments: 5
Kudos: 1





	and i’ll love the littler things (working title)

**Author's Note:**

> mongolia know i have nothing against u it was the first word that came into my head

When Crowley woke up after a century’s slumber, he was only partially surprised to see that humans had gotten worse. They always managed to somehow. He’d woken up, stretched his bones, miracled away the cobwebs and was mildly alarmed to see that, upon reading the paper, a war was about to start. Again. He sighed, and took a deep drag of a cigarette- he’d only started smoking to fit in, but something about the burning in his lungs had appealed to him. As he properly woke up- a hundred years’ sleep took at least a day to recover from - he thought briefly, and with concern, about Aziraphale. He knew that the angel got lonely, and watching humanity go by without someone to share it with wasn’t pleasant. But then he remembered St James’ Park, and the argument. He exhaled a puff of smoke and stubbed out the cigarette. This was going to be a long few years. 

He got into the Bentley and subconsciously smiled; the car still felt the same after all that time, her hinges perfectly oiled and black coat shining. Crowley tapped his fingers against the steering wheel with content and hummed to himself. Switching the radio on, he went to turn the key in the ignition when-

“ _ Somewhere, over the-  _ **_Crowley, is that you? Where have you been?_ ** _ ” _

Oh, bollocks. The whole demon thing. Right.

“Ah, uh, yes, it’s me! Hello, I’ve been in, uh,” - he thought quickly of where Hell didn’t have many representatives - “Mongolia! Yeah, just been sort of trekking round there… came back in ‘38.”

“ **_Mongolia, hm?_ ** ” the voice on the radio hissed, “ **_I suppose you’ve been doing lots of tempting and evil deeds, then?_ ** ”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely, nothing but non-stop evil in, in Mongolia…” Then Crowley remembered an advantage he had. “D’you want me to write a report?”

“ **_Oh no, no that’ll be fine, there’s already so much paperwork-_ ** “ there was a lot of rustling on the line and the sound of filing cabinets snapping shut. Crowley smirked, remembering the mountains of paper in Hell’s copy room, and almost felt sorry for the demon who had to deal with all that. Almost. 

“ **_If you’ve already been doing a lot of evil, then your task will be reassigned. Now you’ve got… task #19745._ ** ”

“So, what’ve I gotta do then? Corrupt some politicians? Cut some supply lines?”

“ **_Ah, well. Not quite…_ ** ”

-

You’d think that he’d miracle himself there, or fly - with wings, not a plane - but the humans were watching the skies for any suspicious things, and suddenly appearing somewhere would cause a lot of distrust of being a spy, so Crowley took the ferry. He watched the grey waves of the sea crash into each other, the land slowly approaching, and remembered a time when he’d seen the water swallow it all. Blinking out of that memory, he felt someone sit down next to him. He turned to see an old woman smiling at him. Why was she smiling?

“Hello, dear, this was the only seat free. Where are you going after this?”

“I’ve, uh, got a bus to catch.” He didn’t much like talking to strangers. Well, only uninteresting ones.

“Me too!” She put her hand on his knee and winked at him. Oh, that’s why she was smiling.  _ No thanks ‘Gladys’, _ he thought wearily,  _ I’ve already got someone else. _

His attention was temporarily distracted by a scene unfolding in front of him. He watched behind dark glasses as a father snatched a doll out of his son’s hands and reprimanded him - Crowley caught something about ‘being a man’. The boy responded by promptly kicking his father in the shins, and Crowley stifled surprised laughter. Perhaps humanity wasn’t so bad. Then he felt a squeeze on his leg, and remembered Gladys, and the bus ride, and the rest of the world.  _ Ugh. Nevermind. _

-

He dropped his bags exhaustedly, glad to finally be at his destination. The trees he’d passed on the bus had been almost bare, autumn’s long fingers turning the weather frosty and the leaves brown, but here they seemed to be a little greener. Perhaps this town and a little temptation could cheer him up- he was feeling a bit rubbish finding out about everything he missed out on. A breeze ghosted past him, and he shivered; he’d forgotten how cold Ireland was, and wondered why it wasn’t tipping down. Reading the town sign - Sciatháin - he struggled to pronounce it aloud.

“Skeeya-thane. Sky-a-thane?”

“It’s sh-kee-han.” said a voice from over his shoulder, and he almost jumped, but he had to look cool, so he didn’t. Stood behind him was a blonde woman wearing a blue dress and a white apron. A girl of about 5 clutched to her leg firmly, and regarded Crowley with a scowl. 

“Right, thanks. I should really learn more Irish.” The woman smiled, and held out her hand.

“I’m Niamh McHale. We don’t get many newcomers round these parts, so what brings you here, stranger?” She said curiously.

“Yeah, stranger!” interjected the angry child, waving a toy rabbit at him. Crowley grinned and crouched down to her height.

“My name’s Anthony. I like your bunny. What’s your name?” At this the child squeaked and hid further behind her mother, who laughed and said “C’mon, love, tell the nice man your name.” Crowley internally cringed at being called nice, but his smile didn’t falter. The girl came out reluctantly.

“I’m Cara. Why are you wearing sunglasses? It’s raining.” Crowley stood up and put his hands in his pockets. 

“Well, Cara, I have very sensitive eyes. And it’s not raining yet.” Just as he said this, he felt a raindrop land on his shoulder and he looked up in surprise. More rain fell out of the sky, and heard Niamh snort at his face.  _ How.. how had she known that? _

“Our family’s always had a thing for predicting stuff. Little Cara here always seems to know the weather before it happens.” She hesitated, but decided to put her trust in this ginger stick of a man, and cleared her throat. 

“Will you come inside before it starts to pour? We live just over there, and I’ll put the kettle on. Do you drink tea?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice, thanks-” Crowley replied, still a little bewildered, “say, does anyone in your family have the surname ‘Nutter’?”

Niamh walked up the cobbled street into a nearby house with a yellow door, Cara skipping behind her, and held it open.

“I think so, maybe on my father’s side. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason.” said Crowley, and shut the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> HOO hopefully that was a good intro to the story, idk really where it’s going but I’ve got a vague outline, pls comment ideas or support or whatever im just,, yeah  
> hope yall r good! tumblr @starryeyedhomicide


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